“I… am a girl?” Feng Yiqiu murmured, his expression slightly dazed.

But soon, he recalled the plot he’d written—and everything clicked. To highlight Li Yu’s profound impact on Feng Mingdong, he’d casually dropped a line: five years after Li Yu’s death, Feng Mingdong’s daughter would lay flowers at his grave.

Normally, someone wouldn’t pass away until their sixties. By then, Feng Yiqiu should’ve been settled with a family. So logically, it would’ve been Feng Mingdong’s child from a second marriage—after moving on from grief—who paid respects.

But because he’d abandoned the story, Li Yu died young in a plane crash. Even if Feng Mingdong pushed forward fiercely, his daughter wouldn’t have reached elementary school age by the fifth anniversary.

And so… his own body naturally developed this condition. Five years later, he’d be just over twenty. Everything connected again.

Makes sense.

Because he cut the story, the plot demanded Feng Yiqiu become Feng Yijiu?

So… rounding it up, the one who “cut” me… was myself? Feng Yiqiu sank into an overthinking spiral—or felt possessed by the spirit of a tragic, nagging literary figure.

“Heh… hah… hehehe…” His expression twisted maniacally, as if an invisible hand were ruthlessly kneading and toying with him.

He took a deep breath, opened the file folder left by Professor Niu, and found a brand-new ID card inside. His own face stared back—subtly altered.

Name: Feng Yijiu Gender: Female

Feng Yiqiu—or rather, Feng Yijiu—took another slow breath. Her only prayer now: may the novel’s illustrations not bleed into this world.

Still, she had to admit—the surgery neatly explained her new identity. Any behavioral shift from the original owner? Easily chalked up to post-op changes or gender transition.

A wry smile tugged at her lips. Perhaps this was the one silver lining in the chaos.

Then her gaze dropped to the bandages below her waist. A faint sadness surfaced. That loyal companion of three days… likely resting in some cold trash bin now.

She’d once mildly scoffed at its length. But… youth was reckless. Only after being disarmed did she grasp it: even if an old rifle wasn’t top-tier gear, *having* a weapon beat *having none*.

Wait—wasn’t she supposed to take Xiao Ju for neutering after the checkup? Her thoughts drifted to that smug little cat waddling at home, tail swaying proudly.

Ugh… Feng Yijiu clenched her fists. Bored out of her mind, she spotted the call button and pressed it lightly.

“Hello?” The same nurse from earlier. Yet something felt different—warm, genuinely approachable.

“Hi,” Feng Yijiu offered a weak smile. Facing this poised older sister, an unexpected shyness made her lower her head. “Could I… get my phone back? Or a book?”

“I thought the little sister wanted company,” the nurse smiled gently, sitting beside the bed and handing over her belongings. “I’m Cen Man. Call me Sister Manman.”

“Sister Manman,” Feng Yiqiu murmured softly—two lifetimes of social caution humming in her voice.

“This is my WeChat. Anything—mental or physical—just message me,” Cen Man said earnestly, stroking Feng Yijiu’s hair. “If you’re hurting, talking or crying helps. I’m a professional confidante.”

“I’m okay… thank you,” Feng Yijiu said, yet obediently scanned the QR code and accepted the request.

“Hungry? Want me to bring lunch?”

“Mm… thanks, Sister.” She patted her stomach with a nod.

“No need to be formal—it’s my job,” Cen Man said, rising and quietly closing the door.

Alone again, Feng Yijiu stared at the new contact’s profile pic. After a long pause, she moved “Sister Manman” into a dedicated friend folder.

“Lunch is here!” Cen Man returned with a clay pot. Lifting the lid released savory minced pork congee—red carrot cubes, green vegetable bits, steaming and fragrant.

But Feng Yijiu poked a carrot cube with her spoon, expression conflicted. “Sister Manman… can I swap this out?”

“Tomorrow, okay? Remaking it now wastes food. Your stomach needs gentle food first. Try it—hospital specialty!” Cen Man handed her a small bowl. “Eat while hot.”

Feng Yijiu’s gaze drifted… until her stomach growled loudly. Her focus snapped back. She gripped the spoon.

*So good.* The carrots melted softly; warmth spread through her belly like comfort.

“After lunch, I’ll change your bandages,” Cen Man said gently—making Feng Yijiu’s cheeks flush crimson.

“No shame—we’re both girls. *I* bandaged you,” Cen Man teased, lightly poking her cheek before leaving.

Silence returned. Too drained for games, Feng Yijiu opened the medical reports.

“Disorders of sex development…” A bitter smile surfaced. Without correction, it endangered life. Earlier surgery meant fewer complications. Yet this felt harder to accept than simply waking up female.

The script had been perfect: super-rich heir, handsome guy—practically a “chosen one of the realm.” But life? Gives you a sweet date… then smacks you when you relax.

She set the folder down. Emotionally, she bristled at Feng Mingdong “tricking” her. Rationally? He was a responsible father. In his shoes… she’d likely choose the same.